


Fortune Favours the Brave

by Spatzi



Series: Roemance is Undead [2]
Category: Band of Brothers, Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spatzi/pseuds/Spatzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babe Heffron discovers that, really, when you ask you do receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Favours the Brave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rum4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rum4life/gifts).



> Belated happy ~~porn~~ natal day, homes! I originally intended for you to receive a Bryan-meets-Gene fic as your birthday present, but I am sure you will agree with me when I say that porn takes precedence. I'll post the other one next week.

It's a little hard to breathe, his chest feels heavy and his mind's all cloudy, but he can't say a word about it, can't complain even if he could, because Gene is thrusting into him and Tim into Gene, and fuck he can't breathe.  
  
He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, because Tim's stare is intense even when he has half his face buried in Gene's hair, breathing in Gene's scent at his temple, breathing out and blowing at his ear. Gene shudders, Gene moans, it's obscene and filthy and Babe feels like he's going to explode, whether from his dick or his ass or even his nipples he doesn't know. He's overloaded with sensation, choking on emotions, exposed beyond belief, pliant under Gene's mouth and hands, open and defenseless under Tim's dissecting eyes.  
  
'Gene,' he nearly pleads. For what, he doesn't have a clue. 'Bryan,' he wants to say in warning, 'can't you close your fucking eyes?'  
  
"Mary, Mother of God," is all he can say, both pleading for mercy and warning her to intercede on his behalf because he feels so full and aching and he doesn't understand everything that he's feeling and he needs to be saved from the twisting in his gut and the fire in his blood and fuck but he wants more, _Gene, Bryan, Bryan, Tim, fuck, Gene! Yes!_  
  
He starts to sob when Gene stops thrusting and starts grinding into him instead, his movements halted by Tim pressing up and down against his back when the doctor angrily surges forward to shove his tongue down Babe's throat to shut him up. Tim's got his hand in Babe's hair, pulling tight and steadily pushing their mouths harder together while Gene licks a wet stripe along the side of Babe's neck, words that feel like praises pouring out of his dirty mouth in French, and then Babe's coming apart, his cock stiff and heavy in Gene's hand, pumping his brains and his soul out in hot spurts of white between Gene and himself.  
  
Babe nearly whites out when he realises that what he's actually looking at is Gene licking his come off his fingers and palm, the sticky mess beautifully catching the light from their flashlight, a mockery of sunlight reflecting off the morning dew on a spider's web, before disappearing under the curl of the man's tongue. He whines when Tim's mouth releases his to capture Gene's and to suck on his come. His come on Gene's tongue.   
  
And then he nearly shouts his tonsils out in surprise at the sudden flood of hot wetness in his ass, dripping all the way down the sheets that Harry and Dick helped Kitty wash, leaving a trail on his inner thighs that have long lost their grip on Gene's hips. Gene's all stiff above him, dark eyes shut and moist lips parted, and then he's slowly, almost gently, grinding down and into Babe again, still somewhat hard and so very fucking beautiful that Babe quietly cries because it's too much, and he's having trouble breathing again. Tim's still looking at him, unreadable and intense.  
  
"Christ," he says out loud, long after Tim has sucked a bruise on his shoulder while he quietly emptied himself into a lip-biting Eugene Roe. "Christ," he repeats, surprised that it's actually Tim's hip his temple is now propped up against and that Gene's half on his chest and half on Tim's lap. "Jesus Christ," he breathes out, because he can't say anything else.   
  
And all this because he had the fucking balls to joke about wanting a fucking threesome just to see if it would get his shot nerves to calm down.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot, you say? What's that?


End file.
